


Qu'est-ce Que C'est?

by diprotodontia



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Bayou, F/M, Louisiana, Loup-garou | Rougarou, M/M, Monsters, Multi, Polyamory, Southern Gothic, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diprotodontia/pseuds/diprotodontia
Summary: The trio has a pit-stop in the backwoods of Louisiana turn into a struggle against something lurking in the bayou.





	1. Pit Stop

**A/N: Unless feedback moves me in a different direction, this is currently planned to be a long fic  
focusing primarily on folklore and relationship negotiations. It will not include explicit depictions of sex but  
will involve communication about bodies and graphic descriptions of monsters and violence.**

It wasn't that Cassidy's first objective in every new town the trio stopped in overnight was to find the closest bar, but he could've understood if it seemed that way to an outsider. He tended to go for the ones that technically obeyed the 2 AM curfew guideline but didn't exactly complain if people lingered for a while afterwards, when the lights were dimmed and you left from the backdoor once you were ready to turn in for the night. Or the morning, depending. 

Usually he went alone, but if he was lucky, Tulip would be feeling stir crazy and Jesse would oblige her desire to have a few drinks and cause a bit of trouble. Though they shared a love of fermentation, Jesse would sooner have a few drinks on the hood of Tulip's car or sprawled across the scratchy sheets of their motel room bed if they were splurging on shelter for the night. Though they had given up the pretense of separate rooms miles back, Cassidy would usually return to the motel at half past 4 AM to find Jesse and Tulip curled up together like exhausted kittens, their faces content and peaceful. On nights like that, the vampire would rather finish the rest of the night having another couple of beers outside the front door of the room, retreating inside to sleeplessly wile away the remaining hours before Jesse and Tulip arose and they packed it all in to head back onto the road again. He pretended not to notice that they never seemed to comment on his lack of sleep on those nights. 

But when Tulip was looking for mischief and Jesse was feeling amenable to the anonymous companionship of strangers spaced out on bar stools around him, Cassidy felt his brightest. He often found himself picking a fight with someone or another just to feel the tight feeling of being part of them, the brief safety that came whenever Jesse stood firmly on his side, prepared to do whatever was necessary to defend him. And if Jesse or Tulip needed him to have their back? That was even better. 

In this case, it was their second night in this half-empty Louisiana backwoods town and their second night at the Funky Monkey, a truly regrettable dive bar that Cassidy was particularly enthusiastic about and Jesse seemed as though he wanted to shove right into the bayou. Tulip was listless and had started working on a standard issue hustle with the boys at the pool table, and Cassidy supposed it was good that the night was wearing on and they'd be gone before afternoon hit the next day. Still, he'd miss the cheap drinks and the bright-faced barkeeper that seemed unusually interested in his long-winded observations about outdated politics and the years-old movies he'd entertained himself with when their motels were kind enough to offer a few channels on their heavy box TVs. 

“So I was tellin' my mate here – weren't I Jess? – t'would have been much more effective if they had just shown us what was in the damn box. They always tink they're so clever, avoidin' the good bits to cut back on the budget'n passin' it off like it were an artistic ting. Bloody cheap'n lazy's what 'tis--”

The barkeeper was nodding at him slowly but enthusiastically, pouring a shot for another customer while keeping eye contact with the vampire, who was enjoying the rapt audience. 

“Anyway--,” Cassidy's monologue was cut short by a clattering from the pool table and he whipped his head around to look at Tulip, who was standing with her hands on her hips and a challenging furrow to her brow. “Ah Christ,” he muttered, swinging his legs around to hoist himself to the floor, hearing Jesse do the same just inches behind him.

“'Scuse me?” Tulip's voice rang out, clear and full of outrage. “If you wanna go ahead and accuse me of cheatin' you're gonna have to account for the tilt this table has toward that pocket,” she pointed, nearly barking at an older man in a worn khaki jacket and hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in about a week. A discarded pool cue clattered on the table in front of him where he had slammed it down in frustration after Tulip had won yet another round. He looked like he was ready to start yelling again when he looked away sheepishly at Tulip's accusation. 

“You jus' don't wanna admit you're being beaten by a girl,” she followed, tilting her chin up. “Now hand it over or I'll tell everyone what you did with that 3 ball.”

By the time the two men reached her side the argument had all but dissipated and her opponent was begrudgingly shoving crumpled twenties into her outstretched hand, a look over utter disgust across his pock-marked face. Tulip looked smug, but tired, and Cassidy glanced at the gaudy neon light over the bar and noted the time. He opened his mouth to ask Tulip if she was ready to head back to the motel for the night, but Jesse beat him to it.

“Hey, I'm feelin' pretty worn out. Ya'll ready to hit the sack?” Jesse asked, eyes centered on Tulip, who shrugged noncommittally but started working her way toward the bar to pay their tab. Cassidy reached into his pocket to pull out some cash, but Tulip placed her hand on his arm and shook her head. 

“Nah, tonight's on me.”

The night just outside of the bright noise of the bar was just perfect. Cassidy could smell the dirt, freshened with gentle rain, and the sound of their shoes shuffling over the gravel in the parking lot elicited almost a kind of relaxation in him, like calming white noise. He couldn't help the smile that came to his lips. Jesse and Tulip threw themselves into Tulip's car and the vampire snaked his way into the backseat, stretching his legs out as much as he could across the seats and tilting his head back with a sigh once he settled in. He had closed his eyes and looked forward to the gentle purring of the engine when he was abruptly snapped back into the present by the sound of fists pounding on glass. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and Tulip let out a startled gasp.

“Alright, you fuckheads, get on outta that car.” A deep, drawling voice demanded from beside the driver's side door. Jesse swung his head around to look first at Tulip and then at Cassidy behind him. He looked utterly bewildered, but angry. His hand reached between the front seats, fingers brushing the top of the handgun he kept shoved against the upholstery. Cassidy gave him a cautious look but said nothing, trusting the preacher to make a judgment call. 

Jesse took a deep breath and dropped the driver's side window barely an inch. The man that Tulip had had a confrontation with just a few minutes earlier leaned in so that he was eye level with Jesse. His gaze was hard. 

“Come on out, we just wanna talk to ya.”

“What is it you want to talk about exactly?” Jesse replied, his voice challenging, fingers wrapping around the smooth metal beneath his right hand. The stranger's gaze moved from Jesse's face to that small movement, then back again.

“Oh c'mon, it ain't like that. We really do just wanna talk to ya'll. You're a preacher, ain't you?” 

Jesse furrowed his brows and looked over at Tulip, who just shrugged. Cassidy mirrored the gesture from the backseat. As a group they unlatched their doors and stepped out, the man and a small entourage of similarly dressed companions took several paces back to give them space. The leader of the group – because he clearly was – gave Tulip a withering gaze before crossing his arms and looking over Jesse like he was sizing him up for something.

“Okay, what do you want then?” Jesse demanded, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his pants, well composed but with a posture suggesting he was totally at ease. 

“We weren't gonna bother you none, but when I saw you was with that thieving bitch--”

“I'm sorry, you did NOT just--” Tulip shouted, stepping forward. Cassidy placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. The stranger raised his eyebrows at her as if challenging her to continue, but she simply let out an exasperated breath and leaned into Cassidy's hand. 

“As I was sayin',” he continued dramatically. “I figured I was doin' ya'll a favor not givin' ya hell for the shit your lady here played, and maybe ya'll might agree you owe me a favor.” He tilted his chin up. “Ya know, for not sayin' nothin' to the other boys she been hustlin' all night, I reckon.”

Jesse pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well, what kind of favor are you lookin' for?”

“The sort I figured we could use a preacher for.”

“Is someone in trouble?”

The man laughed humorlessly, low and breathy. “Yeah, somethin' like that. C'mon, let me show you.”


	2. Stealing The Bacon

“Smells like a sweaty arse full of rotten cheese out here!” Cassidy choked, bringing the front of his shirt to cover his nose. Jesse and Tulip, bringing up the rear of the small procession that had started stomping toward the undergrowth and mud, grimaced at him sympathetically. 

“That's jus' the swamp,” Richard called back from the front. The four men that had volunteered to walk the little group into the trees had introduced themselves as Richard – who was the one clearly organizing the expedition –, Laurence ( _don't you dare call me Larry, he snarled_ ), Keith, and Chris. Cassidy kept getting Keith and Chris mixed up, even though they looked nothing alike. Keith was a middle-aged man, well over 6' and had a lean, toned appearance – he clearly worked out. If Chris was a day over 19 Cassidy would eat a handful of the muck they were trudging through. He still had a fair amount of baby fat covering his muscles, though he too looked like he wasn't a stranger to the gym. Calling the other two fat wouldn't be a lie, but they still gave off an aura of capability, and if Cassidy weren't cheating a bit in the strength department he thought they were the sort of blokes he'd avoid in a bar fight. 

“Yeah, it's just the swamp,” Jesse whispered to Cassidy, putting a hand on his shoulder and making that shit-eating smirk that made Cassidy weak-willed. The vampire rolled his eyes and stepped over a tree root.

Around the time that the ground started to feel like it might be changing from a solid to a liquid in earnest, they came out on a small clearing by a still body of water. Cassidy could see moss and sticks littering the open ground, though he supposed to the rest of them it probably didn't appear to be much more than a shadowy expanse with a faint sparkle off of the parts of the water that weren't covered by algae and debris. At the edge of the trees a truly dismal looking cabin was leaning against itself, looking exactly like the sort of place you'd take someone you planned on murdering, Cassidy thought with a bit of trepidation, and said so aloud.

“Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, how's that shite heap still standing?” he shouted into the darkness. Larry and Keith stiffed beside him. 

“That 'shite heap' is where I live,” Richard called back, still walking ahead. He reached the edge of a wooden fence that was more intact than the building it surrounded and pulled back an unlatched gate. Jesse shot Cassidy a look of exhaustion and quickened his pace to catch up to Richard. 

“Used to keep it locked, keep the pigs in,” the larger man muttered, gesturing for the rest of the group to follow him into the yard, which was mostly mud and clumps of weeds and some wild looking and stringy variety of grass, most of which had gone to seed. “Ain't no more pigs, no reason to bother.” 

“What happened to your pigs?” Jesse asked. 

“That's why I asked ya'll here, you'll see in a minute.” Tulip and Cassidy had by this point fallen back behind Jesse and were looking around the property with knit eyebrows. Insects called around them in disorienting patterns, and Cassidy felt himself grow increasing tense as they moved closer to the tree line and away from the cabin. The air was sweet and sharp, growing more cloying with every step. If he was familiar with anything at all it was with the smell of blood. The only thing that kept him from planting his feet and refusing to move forward – or letting Jesse and Tulip go anywhere either – was that it was clearly not human. He had a feeling that he still wasn't going to like what they were about to see.

Richard guided them around the side of a sizable lumber pile balanced atop several rotting pallets, and Cassidy clearly heard Tulip's breath catch in her throat, though she tried hard to immediately tamper it. 

“These are just the ones I lost today, last ones I had,” Richard nearly growled, his voice husky and angry. “Still gotta burn 'em.”

Cassidy wasn't sure if the disjointed pile of flesh and bones and entrails was jarring on its own or because it was so difficult to make sense of just how many bodies were there, and what had been done to them. There had to be at least five enormous hogs in varying degrees of completion. The blood smelled rotten already, exposed to the Louisiana summer heat, and mixed with the putrefying remains of whatever had been in the animals' stomachs before they died, the odor coming coming off of them was practically weaponized. Cassidy heard Laurence fight back a heave to his left and excuse himself to retreat several paces away. 

“What the fuck did this?” Jesse demanded, his mouth partially open and disgust and horror clearly etched across his face. 

Either having had enough of the sights and smells himself or wanting to spare his companions any further exposure (Laurence had lost his battle with his gag reflex and was making ghastly noises on the other side of the lumber pile), Richard nodded his head back the way they had come and the rest followed him toward the porch of his cabin, where he seated himself on one of the two questionable chairs set out by the door. He didn't offer anyone else a seat and no one bothered claiming it. 

“At first I thought it was wild dogs,” Richard started, his voice almost conversational as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket along with a lighter and stuck one in his mouth. “Happens sometimes, you expect to lose one'r two here and there, you make allowances for it.” A long drag, his eyes gazing out into the swamp. “A few weeks ago it started happening more often. Lost two, then a few days later, two more. Thought we'd gotten a break when it left'em alone for seven or eight days, and then it took five more out of nowhere, no warning, didn't hear a thing. Even had a german shepherd out here, whatever it was made short work of _him_ , that's for goddamn sure.”

“A few days ago I had fifteen hogs left, and well... you saw.” He nodded to himself, took another drag on his cigarette, and turned his hard gaze at Jesse. “It ain't no wild dogs doing this, preacher,” he said darkly, looking at the other man as if searching for something, some indication that he wasn't entirely on board. He looked like a man that had grown tired of explaining himself to people that refused to believe him, a man that had grown desperate. 

“What is it then?” Jesse asked simply.

“Don't rightly know for sure,” Richard admitted. 

Jesse's expression grew slightly frustrated. “Then how do you expect me to help you?”

“I said I didn't know for _sure_ , but I have some ideas, and all of 'em straight from hell, I tell you what.” Richard replied sharply, putting his cigarette out on the arm of his chair and tossing the butt into a metal can by the chair leg that was filled with similar remains. “As far as I can tell it's more'n one of 'em, whatever they are, and they're _strong_ , preacher, and getting braver. Ain't no pack of curs taking out ten full grown male hogs without makin' no sound in a single night, hell, in less than two hours, as I've been up checkin' on 'em regular through the night since this started. It's gettin' now so's I'm nervous even stayin' here myself anymore.” He inhaled deeply, catching his breath, his voice becoming more terse and high pitched as he went on. For the first time Cassidy noticed the redness around his eyes and the sallow slackness around his skin, which he had just taken for old age. He realized now it was completely exhaustion and not a small amount of fear. Terror, even. He picked his hand up to get Richard's attention.

“Aye, so, clearly yehre thinkin Jess here can get rid of whatever's stealin yehre bacon, and don't get me wrong, the man's capable of a lot, but I don't know what you think he's gonna do about a bunch of rabid animals or whatever dey are. Have you called animal control or somethin?” 

Richard scoffed and slid a phone out of the pocket of his cargo shorts, it was a weird contrast to his rugged exterior and their surroundings as a whole. He fiddled with it for a few moments and then stood up and handed the phone over to Cassidy, a grim expression on his face. “Managed to get this picture last night. Heard the pigs squealing and ran to the window, wasn't gonna risk going outside, pigs or no pigs. You tell me if animal control is gonna be equipped to deal with that motherfucker.”

Cassidy squinted at the bright phone screen. It took him a moment to register what he was looking at, it seemed like mostly shapes and shadows. He was able to make out what he assumed to be the firewood pile they had visited earlier based on its size and shape, and then shortly after that, a tall, mostly vertical figure standing beside it. It confused him briefly, looked too top heavy to make sense of, but then he felt his chest tighten. Whatever it was was as tall as the wood pile, which was 7 ft easily, and what he had taken for a bulky upper body was actually whatever it was clutching a huge hog to its head, slouched over. It's torso reminded Cassidy of illustrations he had seen many decades ago gracing the newspaper when it was popular to claim to have seen the Jersey Devil and many artists got a payday from illustrating the descriptions of witnesses. Those were fun days, splitting his time between New York City and the other population centers of the east coast, managing to enjoy his own improbable existence whilst casting a judgmental and skeptical eye on the beasts and devils that folks around him lived in fear of. He felt like a right arsehole now.

Jesse slid the phone out of Cassidy's hand and studied it himself, his face going stark white in the dim yellow porchlight. He passed it to Tulip, who raised her eyebrows and looked at Richard like he was insane. Cassidy expected her to tell him to get lost, but she handed him his phone back and crossed her arms. 

“So, what's in it for us if we get rid of these things for you?” She asked, steely voiced. 

Richard snorted. 

“If you think we're gonna do this for free you're out of your mind.” 

Cassidy shot her a sidelong, panicked face. “We're out of our minds if we do this at all,” he hissed. 

“Nah, ain't nothin' we can't handle,” Jesse offered, his voice still a little shaky but with some color returning to him. “For the right price.”

Richard opened his mouth like he was going to argue with them, but Laurence cut him off. “Now look here, we ain't got much, even less with these damn things goin' around and killin' our livelihoods, but I got a few thousand squirreled away, and I'm sure the rest of these guys can rustle somethin' up if necessary.” He looked vulnerable and pleading, glanced over at Richard and then back at Jesse. “To be honest with ya'll, we heard about you comin'. That there was a hard ass preacher making his way down here. We don't have any other options, and we'll pay ya what you want, but c'mon, you're a man of God, ain't ya? Shouldn't you just help us cause it's the right thing to do?”

Jesse considered that for a moment, pursing his lips a little as though mulling it over. 

“Three thousand,” he said simply, putting his hands in his pockets. “And some guns.”

The men looked at each other for a moment, and then Richard shrugged. “Alright.” 

Tulip smiled.


End file.
